


My Dad's (a) Ghost

by Whitescruffydog



Series: MDAG [1]
Category: Bleach, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adjusted Bleach Timeline, Bleach knowledge not essential, Expanded Bleach universe, Expanded Characters, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Not MCU TV Shows Compliant, Not Thousand Year Blood War Compliant, Tesseract (Marvel) - Freeform, pre-Civil War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7491759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitescruffydog/pseuds/Whitescruffydog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why is there a samurai-ghost-Howard Stark staring at us?"<br/>"What."</p><p> </p><p>Howard made a lot of mistakes regarding Tony, but he wasn't going to add "eaten by a hollow" to that list.</p><p>[Next work in series is Drabbles.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Psyched Psych

**Author's Note:**

> The tags are your friends!  
> Regarding the Howard-Tony relationship here, I'm going with my interpretation of the movies--not the comics, including the tie-ins--and I don't believe it was intentionally abusive, but it definitely left damage. I'm open to debate on the matter, but it will not change the course of this story.  
> In other words, I think they have a complicated relationship that I hope to portray as complicated. Feedback is welcome.

When Tony first saw Howard roaming around Avengers Tower, he ignored him.  After all, he appeared to be 30 years old, had a goddamn sword at his side, and seemed to ignore everything, so what was the point.  Maybe it was a result of flying a nuke through a massive space portal, or late palladium poisoning in the mind, or an unexpected side effect of having the arc reactor removed from his chest.  Hell, he could just flat out be losing his mind, hallucinating about the past and it manifesting in the strangest ways.  Everyone knows he has—had—has?—issues with his father, whether he admits it or not, and he’s sure Freud would have a field day psychoanalyzing the sword.

So he ignored it—he was good at that, ignoring his problems (Thanks, Dad) and whenever he thought he caught the gleam of a sword or the nonexistent swoosh of a suit through a wall, he just looked away and pretended he didn’t. 

* * *

As the days drug on with no other symptoms and no other hallucinations, Tony’s hypotheses became more and more outrageous.  Maybe the universe decided that it hated the Stark family and sent Howard as a guardian angel after Tony’s umpteenth screw up.  (But that would imply that Howard was good enough to be an angel, which just left a bitter taste in Tony’s mouth.)  Maybe Tony died and was in Hell and Hell decided that the best way to torture Tony would be to slowly shred his mind.  (But there were far better ways to do that than his father—believable, maybe not, but better.)  Maybe it was some elaborate prank to push Tony into admitting something.  (Okay, guys, you can stop.)

He refused to consider any possibilities that the thing, spirit, phantom, thing in front of him was truly his father.

And if he gazed forlornly and blankly at certain parts of his tower for longer than he should—well, it's his tower, he can do what he wants.

* * *

One day he has a small party: with the original team…or the parts of it he could salvage, at least. Steve, Clint, and Natasha show up with Bruce still under the radar and Thor up above it somewhere. 

And if Pepper noticed how his eyes twinkled with both the satisfaction because these people came out when _he_ asked them to and the depression because _we're not all here_ she was kind enough not to comment on it.

Not a party, really, but a gathering, more like, or perhaps just a bonding exercise, but nonetheless it turned to alcohol and while Natasha may have excused herself and Steve may have refused, three’s a crowd and two’s enough to stave off loneliness and one’s enough to make a world changing comment.  Well.  Not world changing, but Tony’s-world changing and it was close enough.

“Why is there a samurai-ghost-Howard Stark staring at us?” Clint asked, slurred with the characteristic drawl of either alcohol or laziness. 

“What.”  Tony had seen Howard, of course he did.  He showed up partway into the gathering, phasing through the wall and just leaning against it, staring at them.  

Clint looked at Howard, Howard focused on Clint, Tony looked randomly between them, and Steve looked like the man out of time he is. 

Essentially, “What.” described the situation perfectly.

“How much funds did you pour into this, one, Tony?  Looks pretty great,” Clint continued, gaze not coming off the partially relaxed figure against the wall.

Steve followed Clint and Tony’s gazes, but his expression only morphed into further confusion.  Howard’s expression twitched downwards briefly to match, before he vanished—not unlike the magnificent swish of a magician’s curtain. 

“Shows over, I guess,” Clint stated, colored ever so slightly with the distinct tinge of disappointment, reclining back into his original seat in Tony’s expensive chair.

Through it all, Tony’s expression never changed from the pale and shocked expression, shell-shocked, stiff and unmoving in his seat, drink forgotten and laying dangerously still and loose in his hand.  “I didn’t do it,” Tony stated quietly, the words tumbling from his mouth; the gracelessness having no correlation with his intoxication.

“What?” Clint asked, the vowel sound elongated by at least ten times to Tony’s fragile mind, “Tony not taking credit for something spectacular?”

“ _I didn’t do it,_ ” Tony insisted, a twitch of his arm sending the already precarious glass to the floor.

Within the next second, Steve was out of his seat, a hard stare already spurring Clint out of his.  “He didn’t mean anything by it,” Steve commented, slowly reaching out to put a reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Clint picked up the glass while muttering an apology, and as quiet as it may have been, both of them knew he was being sincere.  While he retreated to dispose of the debris and to retrieve a towel, Steve took his chance.

“Have you talked to anyone?”  Steve was probably the poster boy for not talking to people when he should, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to help those he cared about.

“Talk to someone?  That’s your great big, all-American plan?”  At the very least, it brought the stunned expression off his face, and though the so-called Stark snark wasn’t at its fullest, it was a lot better than him saying nothing at all.

“I know,” Steve gave a small smile, knowing that therapists just weren’t trained to handle certain things, like waking up 70 years in the future and probably also flying a nuke through a hole in a suit of armor.   “But we’re all friends.  So if you ever want to talk…”

Yeah.  Friends…  He couldn’t help thinking of Bruce, how he tried to tell him about what happened, how he fell asleep—it brought a sad smile to his face—and how, now, after everything, he, the other guy, the Hulk, whoever you wanted to say it was, just left like it was nothing.  He knew that he didn’t know anything about what it was like to not want to destroy everything and have no choice in the matter, what it was like to not be able to control yourself; that he didn’t have the right to judge Bruce, and he knew that when it came to Bruce that it wasn’t personal, that it was never personal to him, but damn it felt like betrayal and Tony knew what betrayal felt like.   He wanted to say he’d be back, he was right the last time he said he’d be back, but oh, he was wrong about so many things recently.

“You didn’t get along with your dad?”  Steve was armed with the awkward hesitation, not looking at Tony as he seemed to contemplate whether he had the right to ask that question or not.

Tony wasn’t going to deny the question (accusation?) but he wasn’t going to just let Steve tell him about himself either, so instead he simply deflected the question, “…I didn’t want him dead.”

“Tony, if you’re seeing—“

“Uh! Uh!  _I_ didn’t see anything,” Tony corrected, and while yes, he does see the so-called ghost and he did see the ghost just previously, _Clint_ was the one that pointed it out, and that was enough that it wasn’t _technically_ a lie.  “Clint saw him.  It. Him?”

Steve finally withdrew his hand and his expression furrowed as if he was overviewing mental footage to verify what Tony had said, before giving the slightest nod and turning away.  “Why would Clint see an image of your father?”

“A _samurai_ version of my father, his words.  I’m betting Fury put him up to it.”  But it still didn’t make sense. 

“You two done gazing into each other’s eyes?” A quip marked the return of Clint, twirling the soon-to-be dirty rag on the tip of his finger.

Steve gave him the classic tilted head and frown that implied disappointment (did he patent that yet?) before commenting, “You get that from Natasha?”

Clint snorted and tossed the rag over, letting it arc gracefully and land on Tony’s face. 

“Don’t I hire people to do this?” Tony complained, half mocking, half serious, “I’m paying for everything, can’t one of you clean up a mess?”  Nevertheless, he dropped the rag atop the mess, before swiping it around a few times with his foot.  Steve legitimately looked sheepish and made to bend over, but Tony waved it off with a sly comment, “Sleep is important for the elderly.”  He clicked his tongue and winked.

Steve gave an exaggerated exasperated huff (Tony wondered if he was above rolling his eyes or just did it out of Tony’s sight), but legitimately left the room, if only because he knew that was Tony’s way of asking to talk to Clint in private. 

As soon as Steve was gone, Tony was sitting forwards, staring at Clint with an uncharacteristically serious glint in his eyes.  “What did you see?”

“I told you what I saw!  It looked like your dad, in a suit, with a sword!”  Clint shrugged, returning to the seat he was in previously.  “Who even uses a sword anymore?”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

“…Yeah, okay.”

“Did you even know my dad?”  Tony wasn’t sure exactly of Clint’s age, but it didn’t seem to match up exactly.

“No.  Shield file.”

Tony crossed his arms.  “Did you see Cap’s face?”

“What about him?”

“ _Completely_ clueless.”  Tony gave a haphazard wave of his hand, “Looked like he just woke up 70 years in the future after an ice bath.”  (Clint’s mouth twitched upwards.)  “Okay, fine, maybe I was content to think that I went a bit insane after the past few years.  I think we all did, fair?  But what do you think the odds are that we both saw the exact same thing?  And what do you think it means that Cap couldn’t?”

“That we’re both insane?”

“Are you even listening?”  Tony suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“Sure I am.  But is there anything I can say that wouldn’t irritate you right now?”

Tony exhaled, rubbing his eyes as he thudded back against the velvety cushion of his chair, mentally running through the possible replies that Clint could have given, and reluctantly admitting that no, there were probably none that fit the criteria.  “Three of us were in the room, two of us saw the same thing, one of us didn’t.”

“Sounds like run-of-the-mill spirit stuff to me.”  Clint shrugged, albeit serious, as he let himself thud into his chair this time.

“Yeah, why not.  Not like it’s stranger than anything else we’ve seen,” Tony complained.  Just because it wasn’t stranger didn’t mean that he wanted to deal with it.  “But why my dad?”

“I’m sure you can find things on the internet about this.  But don’t spirits have unfinished business or something like that?”  Clint scratched his chin, eyes and mouth crinkled in thought.  Likely trying to remember all the ghost movies he’s seen in the past decade.

“Let me just pull up psychopomp-dot-spirits and read through it.”  Tony rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.  “But why now?  He died at the end of 91.”

“Maybe you’re asking the wrong question.  Maybe you should be asking why we can see him now.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but then it twitched and closed itself.  He had so many things that he could have blamed insanity on, what if one of them turned him into a medium?  “Maybe you’re not such a birdbrain after all.”  The eye of the hawk—sees all, questions all, perceptive to no end.

“I’m glad I could help, but did that actually help anything?”  Clint ignored the birdbrain taunt.

“It’s a start.  Why us, and why now?  The only time we’ve spent together is basically New York and Sokovia.”  Damn.  Promising, but no closer to any answers.

“Why don’t we try this when we’re not inebriated?”  With a smirk that implied despite his words, Clint was enjoying the mildly aggressive look on Tony’s face. 

“Pfft, you telling me you’re a lightweight?

“I’m telling you that a nice night of sleep is good for everyone.”

They laughed, both knowing that the odds of a peaceful night were slim.

* * *

The next days were spent reviewing what little footage he had of said events, unfortunately confirming that there was very little that he and Clint were together for, even less of that seeming to hold the key to what they were experiencing.

Steve hovered far more than Tony wanted him to, despite protests from both men assuring him that nothing was going on.  (When Tony and Clint agreed to keep this from him, he’s not sure, but it happened at some point.)

This.

Tony didn’t have an word for it.  Ghost sight? Spirit radar?  Something that two of the avengers (that were left) shared, but the rest didn’t?

Reluctant to tell the rest of the team, to tell Shield, because it was hard to say what an admission would do.  God, he barely wanted to tell Clint about it and Clint was in the same boat with him.

And that’s how, today, Tony ended up herded out of the lab by a mother-hen Steve, sitting deflated in a chair, staring blankly at the swirling black hole in the air.

…The _what_?

Just as Tony’s mind focused on the anomaly before him, a boney, white claw reached through, gripping firmly onto the sides of the portal as if it actually physically existed, before a snout, pointy, pure white poked through too, gleaming golden eyes swirling to focus on Tony.

“Huh?”  He really shouldn’t have been surprised.  Really.  But was it too much to hope that ONE foreign species out there was actually nice to Earth?

The beast lunged.

“Holy _shit_!”  Reflexively his legs bucked, trying to jump out of the way, but the angle only sent him into the chair, tipping haphazardly, sending him spiraling over himself, even as Cap called his name in dismay, even as the Iron Man suit came to him, but it _wouldn’t MAKE IT._

Tony could only stare as someone appeared out of thin air, as _Howard_ appeared out of thin air, between the beast and Tony and Cap, a sword wedged firmly against its open mouth, the momentum of the two forces colliding almost making the scene run in slow motion.

He was vaguely aware of Cap at his side, staring down in concern, but he, still draped awkwardly around the chair, could only keep his eyes on the battle before him.  It felt like something out of a bad nightmare—unable to look away, unable to speak, unable to _draw breath_ —

And the momentum shifted, Howard finishing his strike and shoving the beast back.  It roared—a grating, horrible noise that drilled into Tony’s core (why was it so hard to breathe?)—rearing back with a grotesque claw to rake at—through—Howard, only to meet steel as the man swung against it.  Howard rocked back from the collision, his block clearly ill-formed, then quickly leaped to the side to avoid a sickly long tail coming from the opposite side.

“Kutabare, shinigami!” the beast growled, a low, guttural sound that seemed to echo despite the room usually not doing so, as Howard awkwardly twisted to escape both the tail and the claw coming from opposite sides. 

“Shinigami ja arimasen!” Howard responded in kind, skirting off to the side.  “ _Soul Reaper_ desu!  Kore wa New York City desu! Dôshite Nihongo wo--?!”  He didn’t have the chance to finish before an attempted vivisection caused him to jump back and focus on keeping the pointy appendages away. 

Tony’s expression dropped, not so much frozen by fear as stupefied by the sheer incredulity of _my samurai-ghost father is fighting a giant masked lizard._   The high speed dance nearly blurred out of sight, even as Steve continued trying to shake Tony and get a response.  Soon enough, Howard was backed against the window, and a clawed punch sliced through it with a resounding shatter, instantly catching Steve’s attention.

 _He actually can’t see them,_ the part of Tony’s brain not watching the show whispered.  _I guess the window spontaneously shattered to him._

“Is that normal…?” Steve uncertainly asked, and Tony wanted to say _No, it most definitely isn’t_ , but his mind was too focused on the hellion’s roar of deprived pain, and Howard unsteadily rolling back towards him and Steve—without his sword.

Undeterred, Howard regained his balance, a foot, maybe even less, away from the two of them, resting a palm outwards, “You lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creation…”

Tony stared as the creature lunged forward, claws aimed to rip his father’s throat out.  Whatever he was doing, he’d best hurry it up.

 _“Sir, please prepare to engage.”_   Friday’s dull tones were ignored in favor of the chaos.

 “… Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges …"

The claws came closer, impact imminent, and like he said to Steve, tumultuous relationship or not, Tony didn’t want Howard _dead—_ “Move!”

Obediently, Steve lunged out of the way, just in time for the Iron Man suit to come careening into the chair, sending Tony flying into the air before latching onto him and adjusting itself accordingly.

To Tony’s surprise, the creature stopped inches from Howard, and a brief look revealed Howard’s sword pinning it’s tail to the ground.

“Destruction Spell thirty-one: Red Flame Cannon.”

A blast of red energy blinded Tony and a murderous roar deafened him.  He could see it’s silhouette, then Howard’s suddenly, widely arcing his sword through the beast’s face—and it was no more.  Dissolved away, only a small butterfly taking off towards the sky the indication it was ever there.  And the broken window. 

Tony hovered in the air uncertainly, the faceplate receding so he could watch Howard personally.

Howard remained with his back to Tony, sheathing his blade with a swift motion.

To the side, Steve stared curiously at Tony, gaze occasionally drifting to the broken window.

Before Tony could make his decision whether to approach Howard or not, Howard made the decision for him, by reaching into his vest’s pocket and pulling out a device that logically did _not_ fit in there.  Tony’s expression furrowed and he continued watching Howard—No, he was not stalling what are you talking about?

“Tony…put the suit away,” Steve spoke with the long suffering tone of a man (a soldier) who has lived through, seen a lot—though the latter did not include the peculiar sight before them.

Tony’s gaze flickered to Steve, though he tried not to make it too obvious he was staring at Howard.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you’re right.  No danger here.  Friday?”

_“Yes, boss.”_

Even before Friday’s smooth voice finished, the suit began to recede, shortly leaving Tony to land on the floor.

Before Tony could decide if he wished to approach or not—no, he was not stalling, what are you talking about?—Howard made up his mind for him, by reaching into his vest’s pocket and pulling out a device too large to logically fit in it. 

“I have a confirmed target.  In the tower,” he stated, to the device now identified as some sort of cell phone or walkie-talkie. 

 _“The tower?  What tower?  There are a ton of towers here.”_ Whoever was on the other side spoke with the cold exasperation of one who had dealt with one Howard Stark for far, far too long.

“The one with the giant A on the side of it.” Howard exhaled gruffly, as if he expected the answer to be obvious. 

Tony idled himself picking up the chair he had knocked over in his haste, not needing to watch to hear what was being said.  _You haven’t changed at all, have you?_ There was no bitterness in the thought, he got over it long ago.  No bitterness at all…

 _“Avengers Tower?”_ The voice didn’t particularly sound surprised. 

Tony tried to keep the twitch of a smirk from being noticeable to Steve.  Even the afterlife has heard of them.  Speaking of Steve, he was still trying to talk to and get Tony’s attention, but Tony kept shrugging him off with hand waves and careless ‘I’m fine.’s.

“The tower formerly known as Avengers Tower.  They have a new base now; I don’t know if it’s still called that or not.”

 _“Yeah.  I know.”_   Something about the way the tone dropped made it sound displeased.  _“There’s a potential target there, too.  An older scientist.  One of his friends, a younger lady, might be a target too, but the hollows haven’t tried yet.”_

Even actively trying to be inconspicuous, Tony couldn’t stop his attention from snapping at those words.  He seemed to be the ‘target’ Howard was referring to, but the others…  Clint may not be the birdbrain he acts like, but Tony wouldn’t call him a scientist either, and he didn’t exactly hang out at the new headquarters…

“At least three, then?  They seem to like the tower.  The energy here is dense.  They also seem to be getting stronger.  The last one was difficult.”

_“Damn it.  I was hoping that was a fluke, but since you’re mentioning it too, I doubt it.  Watch yourself, Stark.  The last thing we need out here is a higher class of hollows.”_

“A…higher class?”  Howard’s words virtually mimicked exactly what Tony was thinking. 

_“The ones we’ve been dealing with are basic hollows.  There are three classes above that.  If you happen to meet a super tall fellow with a black cape, Stark, do not engage.  I repeat, do not engage.  Do I need to say it a third time?”_

“Yeah, I heard you.” Howard’s face didn’t need to be seen to picture the sour expression.

_“You heard me, but are you going to listen?”_

“I suppose we’ll find that out if we encounter the situation.”

_“I had a feeling you were going to say that.  Oh, and Stark, keep in mind that if humans are being targeted by hollows, they can probably see you.  The man almost saw me a couple time already.”_

“I’m aware.”

Tony stared at his father, but before he could stand or say anything, the phone disappeared back into Howard’s pocket, and soon after the man disappeared into the New York sunset. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually based on a roleplay universe with my friend, as such Howard's soul reaper partner is based on her OC.  
> According to the wiki Howard speaks Japanese. On the other hand, I do not, but it simplifies things, so feel free to lecture me about my errors. I could always say that Howard's not a native speaker either, but that feels like a lousy excuse and I don't think he'd do something halfway LOL. What's actually being said isn't important, so don't worry if you don't know Japanese either.


	2. Group Honing Oblivious Spirtual Tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I said last chapter that I don't think Howard was intentionally abusive (and I don't believe anything in the current movies will convince me otherwise) BUT it is possible to be unintentionally abusive--and I think this is essentially what I meant by 'did leave damage,' I just didn't want to say the word. You probably knew what you were getting into when you clicked on the fanfiction, but I will say, especially for this chapter, prepare for discussions of borderline emotional child abuse.
> 
> As for physical...I'm not going to say Tony didn't get hit or beat occasionally when he misbehaved badly, but where discipline turns into abuse is a very conflicted and debatable threshold that changes with the times. So, I'll say that, in my opinion in the Cinematic Universe, Howard never hit Tony solely to bring harm to him, and while, like above, abuse can be unintentional, even if he may have crossed the boundary a time or two, it's clearly not the part that's hurt Tony into adulthood.
> 
> I understand if you characterize and see Howard differently, especially if you take influence from the comics where I hear he's a much worse character. So long as you respect me and my fanfiction, we'll get along fine. Thank you. 
> 
>    
> I forgot to mention it last chapter, but this is basically my first time portraying most of this characters seriously, so if you feel they're OOC, feel free to give your opinions on the matter, especially Tony.

Tony awoke with a start.

For a few painful moments, he thought he might have dreamt everything—from the very first sighting of Howard to the lizard-thing that came barreling through his … air… last night.  But no, the notes he typed up were still on screen, the tantalizing cursor still blinking endlessly at the where he ended:

Howard Stark, father presumably

Soul Reaper vs Shinigami/Death God

Hollows, monstrous beasts

\--classes

                --"normal class"

                --tall black robed, do not engage?

                --MORE?

\-- **How to defeat???**

"magic"

                Destruction Spell

                                Red Flame Cannon

japanese -- learn|

He watched the cursor blink a few more times, before pushing himself off the desk with a careful stretch.  He let out a long, somewhat amused exhale, manually compiling information was so exhausting.  Briefly, he wondered if those so-called ghost hunters could actually record ghost talk, and if so what equipment to use and how to get it. 

He wasn’t even sure if he got all the information, but he was fairly certain—minus the parts in Japanese.  Both Howard and the monster stressed the term “Shinigami,” which Wikipedia conveniently had a page on.  Howard seemed to take offense at the term, and Tony could understand why someone wouldn’t want to be called a “death god” but was “soul reaper” really that much better?  Of course, he later said something about “New York City,” but that was a no brainer.

There’s at least two of them running around plus whatever “hollows” show up, and up to four people around capable of seeing them…

Damn.

Even at the cost of a near heart attack he was almost no closer to solving the mystery. 

He stretched back, far enough that his head tilted back over the chair so he was staring at the door upside down.  He had escaped from Steve the same way he escaped from anyone else—waving off his concerns before going into a lab and ordering Friday to lock him out.

Damn.

Wait, he said that already. 

Too many questions.  Currently, he was debating between focusing on “Who are the two in Avengers Headquarters?” and “Should I tell Steve?”

The second was simultaneously the easier and harder of the two questions to answer. 

Steve was…

Steve was a lot of things.

In a way, Tony could understand why Howard wanted to find him so badly.  Hell, Tony wouldn’t even really say he got along that well with Steve, but Steve was still going out of his way to make sure he was doing alright.

It was even worse than hating Howard.

He didn’t want to understand why Howard acted like he did.  He was perfectly content just thinking the man was an asshole with an unseen grudge against him, accepting it, and moving on.   But acknowledging that there might have been legitimate reasoning been behind it was just unsavory. 

Did anyone else have dead figures from their past walking out to see them?  Was Steve’s mother going to show up next?  No?  Just him?  Fantastic. 

But did he want to tell Steve what was going on?  About ghost fathers and monsters?

_“Boss, Steve Rogers is requesting entrance into your lab again.”_

“Tell him I’ll be out shortly.”  He meant it.  His gaze lingered briefly on the word Japanese— _I should learn some of that_ —and his hands on the shortcut to close the notes.  With a sigh, he shut it down, grimly confident he wouldn’t be able to parse any more information out of the close encounter with fatherkind.

Tony stood up, stretching a few good times to work out the kinks associated with sleeping in a chair, before moving to the door.  In reality, he only takes a few steps before pausing.  “Friday?  If I start acting oddly, send Clint to my location.”

_“Shall I contact him now, boss?”_

“Funny.”  Even so, he trusted the AI to understand when he legitimately needed Clint’s aid. 

* * *

 

He didn’t give Steve the chance to feel like Tony had listened to his demands.  Rather, he promptly exited the lab, approached him, and said, “Steve, I need your help.”  One of the advantages of being a constant joker who never acted seriously was that when you finally toned it down, people froze, and they listened.

As expected, Steve leaned back a little with wide eyes, blinked a few times, before nodding.

“You basically live at the headquarters anymore, minus this little rendezvous we’re having here.  Has anyone been acting oddly?  I know you don’t interact with them, but especially among the scientists.”

“Tony…,” Steve starts with the caution of a mouse in a cat’s den, “the one acting strangely is you.”

“I know.”  Even if admitting it felt like acid.  “I know, which is why I need to find out if anyone else is affected by this … thing.”  He needed a way to convince Steve to help without digging into the problem any further, and it wasn’t going very well.  “I don’t know what’s happening yet.  Which is why I need to find everyone as quickly as possible.  But I’m here, I’m not there, and I don’t know what’s normal.  So can you please.  Just answer the question.”

Sensing Tony’s desperation (or otherwise just doing something Cap-esque) Steve relented, but simply sighed.  “I don’t know either, Tony.  Weren’t you the one that said scientists are just inherently eccentric?  And you want as few people as possible knowing, I assume?”

“Do you ever stumble upon something that you feel like you weren’t quite supposed to see?  That about sums it up.  But I can’t just ignore it, something is definitely happening, and … it’s personal.”  He wasn’t quite sure how to end the statement, but it was vague enough that it wasn’t going to tell Steve everything, but wasn’t a lie either.

Steve’s mouth flattened, and for a moment his body inflated, before the air was released in a metaphorical representation of their hopes deflating.  “Do you mean odd like Doctor Selvig was?”  Steve continued talking, but Tony wasn’t paying attention anymore.

_This usually works._

_Yeah, get in line._

_She wants to show us something!_

“I think that’s exactly the type of odd I’m looking for.  Seeya Capsicle!”  Tony disappeared back into his lab before Steve could call after him.

* * *

 

“Do you believe in ghosts?”  Straightforward enough.  Give him the chance to gauge the scientist’s reaction.

_“Did you … hack my phone?”_

_“Oh my god, is that Tony Stark?”_

“Great, your friend is there too.  So we can focus on the important question, do you believe in ghosts?”  Back at his computer, Tony added Can see:  Me, Clint, | and waited for the confirmation he hoped was coming. 

_“The last time I said I didn’t believe in something his brother showed up and tried to take over the world.  So I think I’ll politely refrain from answering the question.”_

_“Well, as opposed to Erik’s scathing cynicism,”_ Wait, who is this? _“a scientist is supposed to embrace the unknown (you know I love you, Erik) so maybe there are ghosts wandering this Earth, there’s no reason to say there aren’t.”_

_“Wait, does this by chance have to do with white-jacket-guy you two keep talking about?”_

_“Darcy!”_

Tony allowed himself a brief smirk as he added Erik Selvig, Jane Foster to his list. “Actually,” he cut in, before the squabbling could overcome anything he could say, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.  I need you at an emergency meeting in the tower as soon as Fury or whoever you work for now will let you leave.”

_“Sweet!”_

_“Darcy!”_

“So it’s a deal, then.  I’ll let Friday and the secretary know that you’ll be coming in, and we’ll continue this discussion when you get here.”

“ _Stark, wait—“_

“Nope.”  Tony hung up before Erik could try to argue against it.  Tony nodded to himself, reclining back in his chair and skimming his notes once more.  He likely had a few hours at the least before his guests would arrive, and until then, he had a few more things to consider.  “Friday?  Save that conversation.  Store it with these notes.  Same encryption.” 

_“Understood, boss.”_

Tony’s original theory was simple enough, if incomplete.  His, Erik’s, and Clint’s interactions with the mythical objects known as “infinity stones” somehow awakened some sense within them, that allowed them to see the beings around them, that may or may not be spirits.  _But_ , Erik had two people with him, one Tony knew as Jane Foster, and one he had a vague recollection of as interning with them, one of which had _also_ seen the spirit, and one of which apparently did not and/or could not.  The addition of these two variables, specifically the one, complicated things.

But, that was why they were meeting, to discuss it.

Meanwhile, Tony’s thoughts drifted elsewhere: to Rhodey.  By all rights, the man deserved to know what was going on, Tony wasn’t blind to that.  And it was true that they had faced aliens, both benevolent and malevolent, and robots, both benevolent and malevolent, and super-powered individuals, both benevolent and malevolent, so surely adding spirits, both benevolent and malevolent, wouldn’t change anything, but it was getting personal from the past quickly, and Tony was tired of things from the past getting personal. 

But if there was anyone in Tony’s life that deserved to know when things from the past started getting personal, it was Rhodey.  

* * *

 

“So…you’re saying that there are … ghosts … running around the city?”

“Yep.”

“And…you’ve only found three others that can see them?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And…at least some of them are monstrous beings that want to _eat_ us?”

“And one’s my dad.”

“…Okay.”

“What?  That’s it?”

“I’m done being surprised.”

“You’re always surprised.”

“Yeah, when I _see_ them.”

“What are you going to report?”

“What do you _want_ me to report, Tony?  ‘Howard Stark is back from the dead and as troublesome as ever’?”

“It gets to the point.  Just tell them that an unknown entity has developed invisibility tech and is targeting a few specific people.”

“There is _no_ way that’ll go over well with _anyone._ ”

* * *

 

Well, that went well, and he wasn’t being entirely sarcastic.  He still had a grin on his face as he returned to the tower, riding the elevator back up to where Clint was currently residing. 

“How much longer are you staying?”

“There are nicer ways to throw people out, Tony.”  Clint rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn’t move from lounging sideways across a chair. 

“I’m not _throwing you out_ ,” Tony clarified slowly, “I’m trying to figure out if you’ll be around for a group honing oblivious spiritual tactics meeting.” 

“A what now?”  Amusement colored Clint’s tone as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. 

“A ghost meeting.  Come on, Clint, you’re sharper than that.” Tony shrugged and turned around to face Clint.  “Selvig and his partners will be there.  I have reason to believe that at least some of them can see the spirits too.” 

“You’re serious?”  And Clint is too, now, sitting up correctly, his facial expression falling from its slight twitch upwards into a more appropriately level orientation.

“I have—had, I’ll get there shortly—reason to believe that all of this might have been triggered by,” Tony paused as realization dawned on Clint’s face.

“Oh, son of a—“

“Language!” Tony chirped in—far more enthusiastic than he should have been, but it was worth it when Clint snorted and the dark clouds on his face cleared just a little. 

* * *

 

After a few minutes of coercing Clint into joining the ghost meeting and then actually waiting for said meeting to start, Tony was now observing his audience, which consisted simply of a crease-ridden Erik, and two young woman trapped in an infinite loop of “What is this?” and “Don’t touch it.”

“So, you’re probably wondering why I called you here today,” Tony started in the oh-so typical mysterious leader cliché. 

Erik’s frown cut a little deeper. 

Clint sarcastically clapped. 

“We, here, us, in New York, have a problem.”

“What else is new.”  Three of them said it at the same time, Darcy’s exasperated game-on, Erik’s clipped impatience, and Clint’s amused eye-roll, whereas Jane’s eyebrows rose in curiosity. 

“To answer that exact question,” Tony paused for emphasis (“Get on with it Stark!” courtesy of Clint), “spirits!”  He spread his hands apart in time with the exclamation.    “Between the five of us, we have confirmed sightings of three spirits.”  He gestured to himself and Clint, then to the other three.  “Correct?  How was it put, exactly, ‘white jacket guy’?”

Erik shifted backwards somewhat, going on the defensive, but spoke, “…Essentially.  I saw a flash of white out of the corner of my eye, turned and it was gone, it repeated a few times.  Thought it may have been an effect of…you know,” his gaze flickers nearly imperceptibly to Clint, simultaneously darkening. “Got worried, talked to my therapist, and then Jane mentioned seeing the same thing.”  He shrugged, shaking his head.  “Odd, surely, but I don’t see any reason to believe it’s a spirit and not just… a something else.”

“It’s a fair point.”  Tony bobbed his head and scrunched his face in fake consideration of what was just said.

“As much as I want to be optimistic,” Jane threw an apologetic glance at Erik, “as it stands, I don’t have any substantial evidence to think it’s anything spiritual or crazy.”

“You’re right—you’re absolutely right—and that’s high praise coming from me.”  His smirk was met with exasperation.  “But, I can prove it.  One of the ones I saw was my father.”

The air seemed to freeze as they comprehended what was said, facial expressions—including Erik’s stoic frown—dropping into sheer incredulity.  Darcy was the first to recover, shrugging with a casual, “It’d convince me.”

Erik and Jane turned to look at her, but because their expressions were still stuck on shock, it only prompted a defensive “What?!”

“Three hours ago, my plans for tonight were to go home and get drunk,” Erik lamented.

“We can get drunk here,” Tony offered.

Erik appeared to be considering it.    

“Oh stop it, both of you,” Jane playfully scolded.  “Let’s just start with assuming that we are dealing with spirits.  What does it mean for us?”

“Well, it means we can see them.”  Clint was being an ass and he knew it. 

“Can we, though?”  Darcy immediately challenged.

“Well, it means some of us can see them,” Clint corrected. 

“Better.”  Darcy approved.

“Do you think it’s safe to assume that there’s a reason why only specifically us can see them?”  Jane asked, critically examining her audience.

Clint shrugged.  He, of course, knew Tony’s theory.  Tony himself was opting out of claiming his theory because it would be more credible if the other scientists around could reach the same conclusion.  Erik seemed to be completely abstaining from the conversation.  Darcy didn’t really have interest in the conversation either.

“Seems fair.”  Tony shrugged.  Many proofs began with an assumption.

“So then what do we have in common?” Jane was taking it seriously.  Unlike some people. 

“Dead-end careers?”

“Presence in this room?”

“Charming good looks?”

“Immense bad luck?”

“Come on, guys!” Jane all but groaned, “Work with me! The less seriously you take this, the longer we have to be here."

"Well...I think it's safe to say we've all led interesting lives recently."  Which, honestly, to Erik was just another way of saying immense bad luck.

“Hey, don’t be so down, Erik!” Darcy said enthusiastically.  “Maybe this time a super-hot guy will fall out of the sky for you!”

Tony thought Erik’s expression was critical before.

“But,” Jane interrupted before he could say something equally scathing, “can we tie those events to this?”

“Cap can’t see them,” Clint informed dully.

“Are you sure?” Erik finally gave something somewhat substantial to the debate, “I would think he could, if anyone.”

“Well, he stared blankly while I was nearly devoured by a giant lizard one, so either that or we have more issues than I thought.”  Tony shrugged and mentally added ‘nearly devoured by a giant lizard’ to the list of things he never imagined saying.  Man, that list seemed to grow exponentially.

The stunned expressions returned to Jane and Erik, this time tinged with the slightest edge of horror.    Darcy, on the other hand, simply remarked “Cool,” and focused on her iPod.  It was dubious if she was still paying attention. 

Tony looked offended.

“…so it’s something that we experienced, and Captain America didn’t,” Jane continued with a blink, though hasn’t seemed to completely digest that particular piece of information.

“That doesn’t give us very much room,” Erik sounded skeptical.  Or so Tony thought.  He was having trouble distinguishing that from his standard tone. 

“What about Thor, Erik?” Darcy threw out, actually paying attention it seemed, before clarifying, “What do the myths say about the afterlife?”

“Uh,” Erik sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking floored, “I’m no expert, and it’s been a long time since I’ve heard or read any of the stories, but I think they had three afterlives?  I think they believed in some sort of spirits as well, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I was mixing it up in my mind.”

“You’ve been mixed up a lot recently?” Clint “asked.”  It was technically a question, but the intonation didn’t rise correctly, and it seemed as though the last words were oddly hard to say for him.

Erik grimaced.

Tony glanced at Clint.  He caught that Clint was trying to help out by nudging them in the right direction, but they obviously weren’t making the jump.  “I think it’s an excellent starting point.  You two were controlled, he tried to control me and failed.  That’s what I was going with, until she joined us too.”  He nodded to Jane.

Erik paused—faced with the horror of not something magical, not something out of stories or nightmares, but with the horror of something coldly logical.  He had the face of a man just told he was relapsing. 

“And Jane had the experience with the Aether,” Darcy chipped in, nodding.

The room was now mostly frowning.  Tony had heard about the events in London, of course (who hadn’t) but the details were quite sketchy, and it was never an event he felt the need to look into.  But Thor did mention that the Aether involved was another of the Infinity Stones, with the Tesseract and the Scepter’s Stone, so perhaps his theory was still holding after all. 

“It’s a weak connection…,” Erik weakly pointed out, the criticism both correct and deserved.

“I know.  But it’s all we have right now.”  There were still too many questions, even if his theory was completely correct.

But they were questions that would have to wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey is one of those poor characters that are largely ignored in our roleplays, so both him and Tony's interactions with him are OOC, I apologize, but I couldn't in good conscience leave him out. So yeah, dialogue only sections are usually frowned upon, but like I said I'm terrible at the characters so I wanted to let us both get it over with as quickly as possible, and in a way I think it also adds to the "whatever, I'm done" mood that Rhodey is experiencing.
> 
> As for some other characters, I personally love Selvig--I'm always fond of the older background characters, almost no exceptions--and I think there are better ways to bring comedy to the character that don't involve laughing at mental illness, so I'm going to try to avoid that route--feel free to point out if I accidentally do something insensitive. Also I try really hard to keep things consistent so by all rights he SHOULD be Erik, so if I've accidentally referred to him as Selvig in the narrative, it's a mistake. The gag about "maybe we'll find you a hot guy this time" is a reference to the fact that we usually portray him as gay in roleplays, not a homophobic expression of the author. He probably wouldn't appreciate the sentiment even if he was gay.
> 
> I'm going to try to flesh out Jane's character as more than just "Thor's boyfriend" and help her and the other characters share the smart roles, and as for Darcy...I don't have a good reason for her to be here other than I can't imagine Erik and Jane without her, so here she is.


	3. Flipside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you're into that kind of thing, you'll probably notice I don't really describe Kevin. This is partially because he's not entirely my character and because I'm bad at designing and describing things, but also logically because the description doesn't fit here. Howard has known Kevin for over 20 years, he's not going to randomly stop and consider what Kevin looks like. I attempted to fit it in, but it just sounded shoehorned and awkward. Just so you know what you're dealing with, he has black hair, blue eyes, and has a more military-formal dress rather than Howard's suit-formal. A more thorough description will come when Tony meets him. 
> 
> Quick Glossary:  
> Kevin: Howard's partner and active Soul Reaper from the English Section  
> Samuel: Kevin and Howard's superior/head of the English Section

In the middle of the street, Howard deftly landed, not a human in sight noticing his sudden presence there.   Cars passed through him unhindered, the wind blew timelessly, and humans walked in their unending pursuit for whatever happened to be on their minds at that particular second.

Every living aspect of the world continued on.

Howard hated it.

He would never get used to the concept of not moving when large mechanical vehicles came towards him, he would never get used to walking through crowds unnoticed, he would never get used to using a sword, he would never get used to what was literally called magic, and he would never get used to losing everything he had worked up to in 74 years of life. 

When he had arrived in the so-called “Soul Society” (neither Heaven nor Hell, he was told) and learned that nearly everyone (aka, everyone that wasn’t him) lost memories of their personal life upon death, he had been horrified and confused.

Now, he understood perfectly. 

He stared somberly at the previously-named Stark Tower, the expression being one he wore nearly constantly in the last 23 and a half years.  (Counting because he had virtually nothing better to do.)

When Kevin joked that he “has literally never seen [Howard] smile,” it wasn’t a lie. 

Gaze focused still on the tower, Howard thinks about the past two and a half years spent parading around New York City.    It had taken him until early 2014 to go near either the tower or the new base, and a few months after that to actively seek out Tony.  It didn’t take long from there to realize that Tony was perfectly capable of seeing him…but never made any attempt to talk.

It was for the best. 

Howard wasn’t oblivious to the fact hatred simmered in their house.  No father was doing his job unless his child both hated and loved him…but their relationship chillingly lacked the love.

Howard only wanted the best for Tony.  That was undeniable.  Did he always go about it the correct way?  That…was debatable.  23 years was a long time to think, after all.

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of his partner.  Before said partner could respond, however, Howard immediately said, “Why do you always plan our meetings in the middle of the road?”

“Can you build a sense of humor?”  Kevin crossed his arms and rolled his eyes even as a smirk twitched on his face.   “But no.  The situation is even worse than I expected.  You said there’s two in the tower with energy, correct?”

“Capable of seeing us.  I can’t tell if they have spiritual energy or not, the strange energy coating the area is too dense to determine.”  It almost felt familiar actually.  He’s been trying to place it since he arrived, but to no avail.

Kevin blinked, redirecting his gaze from the tower to look at Howard.  “What do you mean by strange energy?”

“It’s not exactly high level vocabulary.  It doesn’t feel like a soul reaper, it doesn’t feel like a hollow, and it doesn’t feel like the ambient energy of Soul Society.  So it’s strange.”  Strange, and familiar…but there were no other options …

“No.  No…you’re absolutely correct.  I didn’t expect you to notice, that’s all.  It’s subtle, but it is a strange energy that doesn’t seem native to Soul Society, almost.  Which neatly guides us into our next problem.  At the Avengers Facility, so they seem to call it, there are _four_ , not two, potential targets.”  Kevin scratched his face, and a car travelling through him slightly ruffled his hair.  “The other two of which I nearly missed because they have their own powers in this world which seem to be carrying over into the spiritual world.  A sort of ‘too big to notice’ paradox, so to say.”

“Isn’t that normal?”  Tony has spiritual energy whether he’s a human or a spirit.  Just like Howard, presumably, had energy when he was alive.

“Well, yes, but no.”  Kevin frowned, expression twitching with thought.  “If, entirely theoretically, one of us was still alive and had our soul sword, we’d still have it, but while we’d be visible to humans, the sword would not.  But these two, their powers are visible while still being viable in the spiritual world.”

“What does that mean?”  Damn, the world managed to get even stranger than ghosts and monsters.

“Your guess is as good as mine, honestly.  As far as I know every spiritual being is invisible to the human world.  As far as I’m aware, the last two are just normal humans with spiritual energy.   I’m trying to figure out what exactly happened to cause this, but I have no damn clue what I’m doing.  You died in the last century, think you can handle the tools they use?”

“It’s clear you’re new to the digital world.”  Howard stated flatly.  “The world can change a lot in 25 years, and technology especially.  But I can take a look if nothing else.”

“You know where the headquarters is, right?” Kevin turns to look in its general direction. 

“I do.”  _Yes, I used to own the property it’s built on._

“Alright, good.”  Kevin nodded.  “If you want to try that, I’ll patrol the city.”

“Wait.”  Howard was fairly sure he already knew the answer to the question he was going to ask, but another opinion would be nice.  “As these people develop spiritual energy, they are going to show up in Soul Society with it, aren’t they?  What is Central 46 going to do to them?”

“Stark, you make it sound like they’re going to be drug into a back alley and slaughtered.  Relax, if they happen to remember their human lives, they’ll just be banned from human world missions for a while.  It’s currently a hundred years after their death date, but Jonathan has been talking about plans of making it 150.”

“Understood.”  Howard’s expression tightened, but he quickly changed the subject to hide his guilt, “Do you ever feel like something is … wrong?  That it’s right outside of what you can see but you can’t get a grip on it, and even if you could, you’re not sure you could fix it?”  He wasn’t talking about his relationship with Tony and he wasn’t talking about the problem with the tower and the hollows, just a vague sense of unease that was enough to put him on edge but not enough to conclusively determine something was wrong.

“Seriously, what has gotten into you?”  Kevin’s tone twisted in an indication that Howard’s inconspicuous topic change wasn’t so inconspicuous.  “Calm down.  I’ve hunted hollows in various degrees for over two hundred years.  It’s odd that they’re not in the active section, sure, but everything is fine.”

Howard didn’t agree. 

* * *

 

Sneaking into the Avengers Headquarters was easy enough.  Sneaking into anything was easy enough when you were a ghost, especially when you behaved and didn’t randomly destroy the area around you.

(Howard did wonder if thermographic cameras could pick him up.  But if they had no reason to look, he was likely to be safe, so he should probably keep it that way.)

He had bluntly told Kevin that technology could change a lot in the time he was gone, but personally interacting with the sleek half inch objects as compared to the clunky, almost cube shaped computers he was used to was still an experience. 

The technology wasn’t the issue regardless.  The whole point of a computer’s monitor and graphical _user_ interface was to be accessible to someone sufficiently intelligent, even if they had never seen it.  The problem was the log-in information promptly requested by the device.

Howard wasn’t the top dog of computers even in his time—code could never compare to being able to physically see his project as he built it—but he knew that there were ways around and through security, ways that he wasn’t even going to attempt now.  There would inevitably be new holes to exploit, and while he wasn’t necessarily opposed to the challenge, it was for another time.  The easiest thing right now would be to find a computer someone had forgotten to log off of.  (He never understood why it was so hard to get people to understand the concept of logging off and/or turning off their computers.  Of course, he wanted to build an honest, secure workplace, but with Hydra lurking…)

A part of him had attempted to ignore that it wasn’t _Shield,_ even if he recognized a few of the members around.  It was simply _the Avengers._   He could only hope that the death of Shield had finally took Hydra with it.

Did it tie into why the hollows were being drawn to the city?

In Soul Society, they heard something about Captain America, Iron Man, _aliens_ , portals to space, and Thor.

They started hearing about this in the middle of 2012, July, Howard estimated—no one was completely interested in keeping track—and then they received reports of hollows by the next February, which was followed shortly by the deployment of who were essentially the only soul reapers available, i.e. him and Kevin.

_10:35 AM_

_8/15/2015_  

The corner of the display gleefully informed him of the time and date in what was his first clear confirmation of Earth’s date and time in a very long time.  He tweaks his wristwatch to reflect the time. 

Around two and a half years. 

Around two and a half years he and Kevin had been parading around this mockery of his hometown, bashing monsters and saving the clueless citizens, and he couldn’t even be bothered to say hello to his son.

Oh, yes, it was against the law, it was immoral to blur the lines between life and death, Tony didn’t want to see him, their relationship was unsalvageable, oh yes, they were all decent reasons.

They were excuses, the lot of them, and Howard was an _intellectual_ who had no time for harebrained, wily, half-baked _excuses!_

The area around Howard appeared brighter, and he realized belatedly that his energy output rose with his frustration, shimmering around him with a white sheen.  He reeled it back in with an exhausted sigh.

But he had a mission to complete.  His personal issues could wait.

(What’s a few days compared to years?)

The computer itself was boringly empty of information, at least to Howard’s quick scan of the system.  Whoever’s name he was on stored entirely nothing useful to his purpose, just such personal files as schedules and a few pictures—hardly anything that could relate to the city as a whole. 

Which lead him to the internet. 

Howard was neither unfamiliar nor familiar with the internet:  the concept was perfectly logical (and fascinatingly complicated), but his understanding of the term still brought to mind such concepts as ARPANET and Telnet, not the ideas of “Google” and “Wikipedia” and “Internet Explorer” that he’s heard even in the afterlife. 

Clicking on a colorful orb and being presented with an equally colorful “Google” was almost surreal, like most else he’s been experiencing recently.   

The fact that he could type in “New York City” and get information from _everywhere_ in under a second was even more surreal.

Even he’s managed to hear the phrase “Wikipedia is unreliable,” but it seemed as good a place to start as any for basic information.  He skimmed the beginning of the article, quickly determining that the page about the History of New York City might be a better option, and idly realized that he could get trapped on a website like this for a very long time.

But he found the recent history, and he read about the Battle of New York.  He could tell that some of the information was inaccurate, likely intentionally censored, but the general idea that aliens invaded through a gigantic space portal thanks to the involvement of an alien named Loki and were halted by the Avengers remained clear.  But other information was clearly missing, such as the origin of the portal, the status of Loki, and how exactly the invasion was achieved.  He suspected this was the information he would need.

“You feel it too.”

Howard was on the other side of the room nearly instantly, facing the person he completely failed to notice approaching him.  He had a frown on his face and a hand on his soul sword’s hilt, but as of yet made no move to attack. 

“You’re fast,” the woman with brown hair, predominately red outfit, and heavy accent said, verging on a sad, regretful tone, “reminds me of someone else I knew.” 

A strange energy clings to her, decidedly not soul reaper, but obviously not human, both by the inherent feel of it and how she’s clearly speaking to him.  Howard remained stoic.  The woman and her energy were both highly intriguing, but a lot rested on Howard following the rules, which happened to say he wasn’t supposed to interact with the living. 

“That roaring instinct, deep inside, that _creeps_ into everything you do—that terrible feeling that something is _wrong_ and you—you are so … tiny, too insignificant to even understand what it is, let alone be able to fix it.”  The woman flexed her hands, an ominous red glow appearing and swirling, almost alive, around her.

Howard didn’t like being told how he felt, especially with how correct she actually was.  He felt stiff, the hairs on his neck tight, nearly overwhelmed with the feeling that, as she said, something was _wrong_ , the discussion bringing it to life with a roaring vengeance.  He still had no plans to say anything to her, and yet, he felt rooted to the spot, compelled to hear the forecast, the situation too terrible to think of looking away from. 

“You’re being quiet, Stark.”  She seemed grimly amused, a smile playing on her face while fear swam in her eyes.  Howard didn’t question how she knew who he was.  “Is something wrong?”  The double entendre was both innocent and horrible, but enough to make him return his own blank sneer.

“My superior has said that everything is clear and normal,” the monotone a far cry from his usual charged statements.  Because, at that point, simply standing there was likely enough of an interaction to get him in trouble. 

“Ah, the other one.  I would not think of you as a man who passively does everything he’s told.”  She was goading him, that much was obvious, but Howard was not in the mood for playing or forming a scalding response. 

“Sometimes it needs to be done.”  His neutrality was carefully maintained, yet blown apart when a thing that looked like a walking “Google” logo phased through the wall.  Again, very clearly not human, but Howard couldn’t determine if he was staring at a living creature or a spirit.  Yes, staring was the right word, but the creature hardly seemed bothered by it. 

“I see you managed to confront one of them,” Google-logo said, meeting Howard’s dumbfounded stare with a critical yet amused one.

“Yes, it was not difficult to manipulate him into not acknowledging my presence,” the woman affirmed.

Howard’s attention returned to her, with a frown, as he considered the implications of that particular comment.    “How?  Who are you?”

“You have your tricks, I have mine.”  The girl grinned again, the glow fading from her hand. “You may call me Wanda.  This is Vision.”  

The creature—man—took a more formal expression, before addressing him.  “I apologize for disturbing you, … Howard?” –Howard nodded— “but we had a few questions, and you seem to be the one most capable of answering them.”

Wanda’s previous comment was close to the mark, in that Howard really wasn’t fond of not making the calls, but in reality it was nothing new.  There was always someone else to consider, different opinions to weigh, responses to acknowledge.  Howard may have had a lot more room to push while he was alive, but he still had boundaries, and to push your boundaries you have to know where they are to begin with.  “Of course I am,” He said dryly, “but it doesn’t change the fact it’s prohibited by the government.”

Wanda and Vision glanced at each other, and Howard’s expression fell as he was unable to determine the meaning behind the expression.  The sudden lapse in conversation also allowed him to appreciate the strength of the duo before him. 

The woman was of decent strength, though the spiritual energy was disorderly and Howard was fairly certain that if it came to a battle, he could handle her. 

The man, on the other hand, seemed to be shimmering with strength—the energy he was releasing coiled and dangerous, seemingly weak but strong, like a river that appears to be shallow yet capable of swallowing those who wade in.  It seemed to pull him in, energy akin to the power surrounding Avengers Tower, yet vastly different, a strength unparalleled in destructive capability, capable of ripping apart the boundaries of human understanding, far exceeding Howard’s own, pitiful, infinitesimal—

Howard snapped his attention from Vision, staggering a half step back with a strangled sort of cough.  He had heard stories of Soul Reapers so powerful that they can incapitate their inferiors with nary a look, and had heard rumors that Samuel was capable of such a feat, but it was the first time he had experienced it himself. 

He stared at the floor for a few moments to stabilize, before returning his gaze to the two, making it a note to be more vigilant around Vision. 

“We encountered a … creature … earlier today,” Wanda started, once again, and the words bounced around Howard’s head a few times before becoming clear. 

He wondered if it showed, because she waiting until he nodded before continuing.

“It appeared from nowhere—a few plumes of smoke before it, a small black creature, materialized and charged towards us.”  Wanda tilted her head, clearly recalling the situation.  Vision nodded along, though he remained as impassive as always. 

Howard’s expression darkened, as the description hardly matched what he expected.  Hollows were known for their pristine white masks and he wouldn’t entirely classify the ones he’d encountered as small.  “How small?”

Wanda glanced at Vision, who replied, “Approximately a foot, though we did not exactly take the time to analyze it.”  He almost seemed amused by his own words.  “We both retaliated immediately, she used her powers to hold it still, and I vaporized it, for lack of a better word.”  He made a vague gesture to his head, where the gleam of some sort of gemstone seemed to shine in respond to his statement.

Howard narrowed his eyes at it, but did not comment.

“We experience a lot of odd things in this line of work,” Wanda seemed to find a grim humor in the situation, “but any such incident,”

“Especially one occurring within our own home,” Vision interrupted.

“needs be reported, so we requested the recording from security, and imagine our surprise when we appear on camera to be attacking nothing.”  The two of them now focused intently on Howard, as if they had uncovered some incriminating masquerade and expected him to reveal everything because of it.

“I apologize for the inconvenience.  I will discuss the situation with my partner and will work to ensure that it does not occur again.”  It was a standard, nondescript response to any annoyance who expected more than you were able to give, and while it was possible to say the cookie-cutter comment sincerely, Howard’s dry, clipped tones definitely were not.

“I only ask that you do what you can.”  Vision, on the other hand, managed to smoothly sound sincere, and Howard wondered if he was being nice or failed to interpret Howard’s reply.

That was meant to be the end of the conversation—Howard even turned to walk away—but before he actually left, he spoke, yet again, “This is not a normal situation.  I would suggest that you stay on guard and defend yourselves.” 

“We know,” Wanda said confidently, and Howard glanced back one last time at her overly-innocent expression and Vision’s strange visage, before disappearing from their sight.

He would wonder later why he gave in at the very end and left more information than he should have.  Maybe it was because he always valued intelligence and hated being left in the dark.  Maybe he trusted their immense power to handle the situation as well as he could, if not better. 

Maybe it was because he feared deeply what may be coming, and knew that they would need all the help they could get. 

He would also later realize he didn’t actually get any useful information. 

* * *

 

“So you got caught _and_ talked to the spiritually aware humans?” Kevin asked, slack jawed, pitch steadily rising.

“Yes.”

“ _And_ didn’t get any relevant information?”  The question tapered off into an undignified squeal, honestly. 

“Yes.”

“Do you make it a habit to do the exact opposite of what you’re told, Stark?”  Kevin ran his hands down his face and exhaled sharply.  Howard honestly didn’t understand the hullabaloo.  

“Yes.”

Typically, a response like that was standard between the two of them, and would have at least amused Kevin.  A lack of humor was a testament to how serious the (apparent) violation was.  “What did you tell them?”  He mostly calmed down, at least.

“Nothing.  I listened to their concerns and suggested they be on guard.  If they managed to sneak up on me and take out a hollow on their own, maybe we’re not handling this correctly.”

“ _They fought a hollow?!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let me clear up some potential worries now. In this universe, there is a single Soul Society divided into five sections. The Japanese Section/Yamamoto's Section is the section you see in Bleach. Now, if you actively read Bleach fanfiction, I'm sure you've seen one that's tried this idea. I'm not going to say they can't be done well, but they often suffer the problem that they have a TON of characters that it's impossible to casually keep track of, no matter how well written. I don't want to spoil too much plot, but I will say that the English Section (where Howard and Kevin are from) has THREE active Soul Reapers. Yes--Three. There's an actual reason behind this that will be explained later, but I wanted to put some worries to rest now. This is why it's such a big deal that Hollows are attracted to New York City and why Howard is deployed despite being relatively young. One other section will be mentioned as a plot point, and the other two may be casually mentioned, but that's about it. (This is part of the 'expanded bleach universe' in the tags, by the way! I hope you like my take on it.)
> 
> In other news, I'm aware that Kevin isn't being very 'minor' right now, but I wanted to expand more on Howard's motivations and his side of the relationship, and certain conversations just make more sense between two spirits. As the Avengers get a better handle of what's going on, he'll get pushed more to the side. He's mostly here as a mediator between Tony and Howard. If you read between the lines, you can also see a bit of what hurt Tony and Howard's relationship (hint: what kind of things is Howard saying that sound fairly normal if a bit like an asshole to a friend but could seriously hurt a kid's self esteem?)  
> If any OC (Kevin or otherwise) ever becomes too much of a nuisance, drop me a line and I'll do what I can to drop them from the focus. 
> 
> Finally, Howard is a genius. I think that much is fair to say, and I don't want to sell him short, so if he seems a tad clueless in this chapter, I want to take a moment to say he's a genius in other ways than already expressed by the modern, living geniuses. He can do a lot of things, but he's not going to magically bridge 20 years of advancement.  
> He also got blindsided by Wanda, but I think that's understandable without any more explanation.


End file.
